Love Sick
by periberi
Summary: Quistis hates being sick. oneshot, Quistis/Squall


**Love Sick**

_Quistis hates being sick. A quall._

6:43 am

20th of September

SeeD Dormitory A7, Left Wing

I called in sick today.

And mind you, I hate being sick. Being an instructor doesn't help either. Don't get me wrong, I love my profession but I hate being sick, so I love to hate being a sick instructor. It makes me disoriented and counterproductive, to say the least. I know, I know it will give you time to rest, blah blah blah, but once you get back in track, work, oh lots of them, comes your way. Meetings, council meetings, meeting Trepies...

Anyway, that's beyond the point.

Did I say I hate being sick? Yeah, I did. But I never hated being sick this much. Losing temporary immunity against biological and unwanted entrants to an individual's system is a natural part of life, a never-ending cycle; however, when, and **WHEN** you get sick for a very random, illogical and irrational reason at all, is altogether a different matter.

That random, illogical and irrational reason at all is being sick because of love.

Sappy?

I agree. Which then makes me go back again why I hate being sick..oh I hate being sick, really.

But then, losing temporary immunity against biological and unwanted entrants to a human heart is also a natural part of life.

A never-ending cycle.

It was two weeks ago, 6th of September, a bright, sunny day; an ordinary morning nonetheless when I woke up, opened my eyes, adjusted them to sunlight and found two dark gray orbs staring at me. His muffled hair, thin lips, fair complexion, and eyes...

I don't like that look.

_"Squall?" I recalled asking tentatively. He, on the other hand, remained silent as if he never heard me at all. The way he was acting, I knew there was something he wants._

Me.

Of three months of fooling around, nine being seriously committed and three years of marriage to him, that, and putting up a mental note, is one thing I should avoid.

That indescribable look.

Although, to my delight and gratitude to Hyne, that only comes once in a while. I could count all the times I saw that look using both hands and feet; the times I shrugged it, with both hands, and the times I was submissive...with a hand.

It just kind of happened that I had to add one to the submission part.

Squall Leonhart is complexity in its purest form. He best expresses himself in his eyes (just beware; they're easy to get lost in) but he can also speak himself out with a few words. He is stoic, seldom smiling (they're rare) and frigid. In a lot of ways countable and uncountable.

So when he strikes, it's hazardously explosive.

Quistis Trepe-Leonhart is not easy to handle either. She is the underestimation of difficulty. And that's it, no shameless self-description inserted here.

And so when she fires, everything's just blown away.

Literally at that.

Add two and two together, fuse complex and difficult, and born with it is a multi-complex, overly-difficult situation like this.

Uh-huh. Being sick.

_Note_: _NOT ORDINARY SICKNESS: Is there any psychological explanation why my system had to cough for every love-interrelated experience I come across with? The sappier, cheesier but romantic nevertheless, the longer time of being indisposed. Remember to ask Hyne why it had to react in such a way._

So...why again in the name of Hyne did that look haunted me weeks ago?

Oh. I remember now.

6th of September. That's our anniversary eve. 7th of September. The anniversary.

...but, in the name of Hyne, I woke up with that look and it was September 6th.

Asking? No, he wasn't planning to do it two nights in a row (there's still work the next day) but he was planning something else.

I'm getting there.

You might have guessed that despite my unpaid efforts not to oblige, it kind of...just happened. It did; I wasn't dreaming, and it was real.

The morning after, the mild coughs began. First symptoms. I felt my chest heaving and I was breathing hard; I had to clutch the blankets and wrap them around me to drive away the imaginary cold.

Until the coughs were no longer moderate, they had gone extremely uncontrollable and continuous. There were no other discomfort in my part, weird I know, no dizziness, fatigue or whatsoever but just plain coughs.

Still coughs nonetheless.

I even had to support my weight by the bedside desk just to sit upright and then, it caught my eye.

Blue roses and a card. In the empty space. Beside me.

Totally out of character.

Whatever happened to the man I remembered marrying? Oh yeah.

He has changed.

_The greatest mornings come _

_when I close my eyes at night, _

_You were the last sight I saw.._

_And in my dreams, you are still,_

_And when I open them again, _

_I felt I've never slept at all._

_I see you then,_

_and here,_

_there;_

_those eyes I stare at,_

_your lips I long to kiss,_

_and your hands that fits mine._

_Oh you got me whipped._

_It's undeniable I've loved you before,_

_I'm fairly certain I do now and..._

_I'm pretty sure I will still in the next,_

_greatest_

_mornings.._

_with you._

"Breakfast's ready."

And he just had to cook for me. Then, that explains why there wasn't so much action the past year. The year before that...well, that's another story.

Sappy?

Honestly, it just felt right.

Not too bland, not to sweet, just right.

It earned a two-week long cough, though.

_Cough._

_end_

A/N: My first Quall. Reviews, whether of appreciation or criticism are all welcome. I know where that'll be coming from. Cheers for Quall!


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